Right (Sequel to Change)
by Atheniandream
Summary: A sort of sequel to Change. More like a moment in the same world as the previous two, 'Change' and 'All I want'


Notes: Sort of Sequel to Change (Mostly a moment linked to the series. Unfortunately my enthusiasm and inspiration is lacking with Darvey atm)

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><p><strong>RIGHT <strong>

By Atheniandream

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><p>She's drunk, he realises, after she starts to slump into her chair; her usually graceful poise now starting to take on a more casual note as she wrestles between being draped over both arms of the leather chair and her muscle memory trying to claim back it's usual advantage.<p>

He's too often watches her these days, graceful and defiant in her stature; silently dominating every other woman that walks past her in lesser-than heels and hair that doesn't quite shine with the same divine purpose against the goddess vibe she's got going on.

But sat down,

She is more obvious. More relaxed and less of an imposing figure in the room.

Of course, she's still as attractive. Even more so with her crinkled nose, as she swings her face towards his, sensing his presence.

"What?" She challenges, quirking an eyebrow as her lips linger on the hard consonants of the word.

"Nothing." He shrugs, the humour of his enjoyment winning over the silently stern edges of his face, painting his hard jaw a soft orange to match the lighting in the room.

She smiles, shaking her head as she looks away for a second, before a thought flickers past her eyes and she leans in a little further into the right hand side, where his fingers rest bare millimetres from her own forearm.

"Did you drug my drink?" She asks, a determined question hanging on her lips.

"If I did, would you come home with me?" He offers, a playfully calculated expression on his face that verges on coy.

She erupts into a muted giggle, smiling to herself.

"No." She admits, grinning out into the mix of people filing around them.

"M'serious, Donna." He says then, leaning a little further towards her as his face grows serious. "_Come to bed with me_." He says, smirking out of the corner of his mouth, that crooked line working to his advantage against his still handsome face.

He's feeling his own tired drunkeness set in as he waits for the expression to fall onto her dewy features.

"You've said that before." She reasons, a sudden lucidness coming over like a wave.

"I meant it the last time." He insists.

"And now?" She asks then, a quirk in her lip as she takes a long sip from his own glass of liquid courage, her fingers holding up the glass like it's her victory spoils for the week.

"It's starting to...ache, a little." He plays, the flirtation in his voice carefully presented.

"That's not good." She shakes her head.

"It's not." He agrees, a smile tugging at his game face.

"You need to..._fix_ that."

"You could..._assist me_?" He says, the tongue in cheek double meaning painting the corners of his cheeks pale pink. "Make it easier."

She laughs then, sitting back the outburst guttural and filling her entire being. He shakes his head tiredly, leaning away from her.

"Wouldn't you be lucky." She says, leaning in slightly. It completely throws him, her chest rising and falling deliberately as the arches in both her eyebrows sharpen with a shrewdness. "To get _that_ lucky."

"I get lucky all the time." He throws in, rolling his eyes. It's not the best angle, to mention your prowess when you're trying to sleep with a woman who holds your heart and your career in her hands more times than he himself can count.

"You do." She admonishes. "But never **_that_** lucky." She plays, sensing the advantage.

"What's it gonna take?" He says then, getting to it.

"This situation has no currency, Harvey."

"Thank fuck. I have tons of money. Name it." He says, deliberately unyielding.

"No." She says, frowning slightly.

"Why not?" He asks, matching her look.

"Because you're not ready."

"Bullshit. I'm always ready."

"Harvey." She chides, looking away from him and out into the crowds. "Not for this you're not."

"No?" He questions, intrigue falling over his features.

"No." She says delicately.

"Okay. How can we turn this into a _yes_ situation." He says, leaning in then with his trademark insistence and a ton of smirk on his face.

"WE can't. You can't close me, Harvey Specter." She says, a patronising look on her face.

"Bullshit. Everybody has their thing." He replies arrogantly.

"Except when that thing is...you."

The words knock him dead. Their placing in his head washing out his intentions in one fail swoop.

"What?" He asks, his brows knitting together and making him instantly ten years younger.

"Everybody has their thing. You...are my thing. **_That_** thing. And you can't leverage yourself."

"I could...kiss you." He offers, looking from feature to feature.

"Maybe. But we both know you won't."

"Why not?"

"Because I'll break your heart."

"You wouldn't."

"I would. And you know it." She smiles sadly.

"Donna." He breathes.

She's right on so many levels, but he's still not giving up the fight just yet.

"Harvey." She warns, sitting back.

"Donna." He breathes.

She nods then, closing her eyes for a split second. "I know."

It's a silent moment, filled with everything he could never say and everything she already knows.

"Then when?" He asks.

"When it's right." She says, looking past him.

Reigning it all in is suddenly the worst thing to do.

But he does it.

Because as always, _she is right._

He's getting closer.

But she's still right.


End file.
